a klutz.

Join me in reinacting last week. Through pictures.

This first picture is of a wound that I earned during last Wednesday nights performance. At the time I had no idea it happened. Just a bit of pain in the elbow. I looked down and saw blood. It doesn't look bad now, but at the time I was like, YES! I'm sacrificing all for my character.

I don't have a picture of Friday night's injury. A little difficult to take.

*Spoiler Alert* During the show, I carry a bullhorn. When bringing it up to my mouth to speak, I forgot to stop. And whacked myself in the lip. Complete bloody lip. But only when I smiled.

Saturday Matinee: I stabbed myself in the elbow. Again. Only this time I needed a bandage. But at least it helped me discover the cause of the elbow pain.

Let's look at the two together. Shall we?

Awesome. And I will now have scars that will forever remind me of the fun I'm having.

a fan.

I spent last Thursday setting up the gymnasium at the rec center for the Library Gala. The annual fundraiser that the library board is in charge of putting together. This was my first. And I was willing to do what I was told. Fill cups with ice, pour water, serve dessert, clean up.

My highlight? Meeting Hesther Rippy. A beautiful, beautiful woman. In her eighties. If I could describe her in colors, they would be silver, black, and red. And she stood out. Walking, living model, stand out. Showing up at 10:00 AM, in full makeup, hair and dress, Hester helped set up the tables. Stunning. Serious, I should have taken a camera. But it turns out I didn't need to. Why? Because she's famous.

Gorgeous. Right? Totally.

The evening's act was the Thrillionaires. And I am now their biggest fan. We're talking Mel from Flight of the Conchords type fan. Their pianist brought his own piano. A real piano. *Love it.* (Serious? Who carries around a real piano? Side note: He is also a piano tuner. Who knew that piano tuners could make the impossible possible.)

The musical they created focused on a small town: new mom (secretly wants to break dance) and son (who thinks he's pregnant but discovers it is only a burrito), move to town. The hyper cheerleader finds out she is in love with the son, and her dad disapproves (has a secret that we discover he thought he had been pregnant and given birth to his daughter 16 years earlier). You still with me here? Local pizza owner likes to fight crime on his own. And they find out that he took a baby from awful parents and left it with the dad (so it was actually a burrito - not pregnancy).

Entertaining. I know!

Saucy stuff. Especially for little town Lehi. I laughed. So what if a little too loud. So what if the people at the surrounding tables looked at me. I think pregnancy from burrito is funny. FUNNY.

listening to NPR.

Dear Ira Glass -

Has it come to this? Have the purse strings tightened to the point that NPR has resorted to pressure? Celebrity pressure to keep the contributions coming in?

Today, while I finished the dishes, I could have sworn that I heard you threaten to call people who are NPR listeners but who have never donated money. McCarthyism at its finest. You requested that listeners turn in their friends. Send their contact info and you will call and ask them why they don't donate. All in an effort to get friends and family to rat out those they love.

In return? Those who do not donate will get a call from you, while on the air, and have to answer your questions as to why they do not donate - all in the effort to get them to relent to the pressure. The celebrity pressure and the public humiliation simultaneously thrown at us.

Some may see this as a creative form of finding new donors. I see it as threatening and manipulative. In many ways I would rather not donate in a stand of defiance against such tactics. Similar to the feeling in high school of not voting for a prom king and queen - just because everyone else was. (And I'm totally against naming royalty in honor of their popularity. Actually I'm just against royalty in general.)

I feel for the few I heard stuttering in embarrassment as you pelleted them with questions. And my personal guilt for not donating vanished.